


Misconceptions and Truths About Vampires

by glassteacup



Series: Vampires, and Daemons, and Mermen - oh my! [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, Humor, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Vampire Katsuki Yuuri, Vampire Phichit Chulanont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassteacup/pseuds/glassteacup
Summary: Yuuri and Phichit have been living in Detroit for the past five years. Yuuri gives lessons at the local rink and has a new student. Featuring - Yuuri is terrible at being a vampire, Phichit is an amazing best friend, and Viktor is bedazzling like the sun.Yuuri pokes at his dinner, toppling the neatly piled tower of raw beef on the third try.Phichit reaches across the table and swats his fork hand. “Stop playing with your food.”Yuuri sets his mouth in a straight line. “I’m not playing,” he grouses. There’s only so much steak tartare one can eat three times a day.Phichit rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, finger flicking at the screen rapidly. He's probably busy with ordering "delivery" on one of his apps. Yuuri wisely keeps his mouth shut except for opening it in between shoving in forkfuls of food.





	1. Chapter 1

**Misconception - Vampires Need to Drink Human Blood**

Yuuri pokes at his dinner, toppling the neatly piled tower of raw beef on the third try.

Phichit reaches across the table and swats his fork hand. “Stop playing with your food.”

Yuuri sets his mouth in a straight line. “I’m not playing,” he grouses. There’s only so much steak tartare one can eat three times a day.

Phichit rolls his eyes and returns to his phone, finger flicking at the screen rapidly. He's probably busy with ordering "delivery" on one of his apps. Yuuri wisely keeps his mouth shut except for opening it in between shoving in forkfuls of food.

They've bickered plenty of times before on the topic of food and it always ends in a stalemate with Yuuri unwilling to compromise and for the past few years, with the added nuance of Phichit grumbling under his breath about how _Tinder and Grindr make it laughably easy and Yuuri is being too stubborn with his morals_.

Yuuri thinks that Phichit must’ve been a frazzled mama cat in a previous lifetime, what with his fond exasperation with Yuuri's incompetency in the hunt. He definitely doesn’t want Phichit to panic and drag some dazed frat boy back to their apartment again with the insinuation that they could share the meal. His best friend means well and Yuuri knows Phichit worries about his health.

When Yuuri was younger - well, as a manner of speech - he experimented with raw blood sausage, rodents, and pigeons to name just three of the questionable meals he’s forced down.

He found steak tartare to be the most palatable and it is also the most likely to appear on a restaurant menu which comes in handy when he wants to dine out without his stomach threatening mutiny. While he can eat any food for pleasure or to keep up appearances, he still needs to stick to an eating schedule and a restricted diet to gain nourishment.

Maybe he should pick up lemons tomorrow to mix up the flavor profile. It's been a few weeks since he's prepared his meals with lemons and the addition of citrus is the height of excitement for mealtimes nowadays.

He uses the side of his pointer finger as a knife edge to scoop the last remaining shreds of beef up onto his fork. He can't afford to dawdle over dinner. He has an early morning shift at the rink tomorrow and needs to go to bed now if he wants private ice time. He forces himself to swallow the last unappetizing bite with a sigh.

Phichit reaches across the table and squeezes his hand in solidarity of spirit.

**Misconception - Vampires are Cold-Blooded**

The chimes to the main door of Ice Castle Detroit tinkle merrily as Yuuri pulls it open with a heave-ho jerking motion against the sudden gusts of wind. Yuuko-chan glances up and he can't help but return her smile as he walks up to the counter.

As a rule, he tries not to form attachments. Every loss cuts sharply. When he first moved to Detroit with Phichit about five years ago, it was Vicchan who showed up at the doorstep of their apartment building and adopted them rather than the other way around. If it was up to Yuuri, he wouldn’t have dared to get a pet but the sweet puppy set up permanent camp in his heart and was Yuuri’s constant companion for his short-lived life. His pillow is a poor substitute now for the warm ball of fluff that cuddled up to him every night.

Much in the same way, everything about Ice Castle Detroit is comforting. It reminds him of the rink he used to practice at after school as a kid.

Yuuko-chan, the manager, is kind with a sparkling smile and an impressive repertoire of homestyle Japanese cooking that she unabashedly foists upon him in an endless stream of bento boxes served with side helpings of motherly tsks of Yuuri being too skinny for the cold Detroit winters.

He's already feeling twinges of regret and sorrow at the idea of leaving Yuuko, her gregarious husband Takeshi, and their rowdy triplets behind when he inevitably needs to move on.

He and Phichit should have about ten, _maybe_ fifteen years with their Detroit routines if they're careful. A few well timed jokes about being lucky with Asian genes and some artfully placed grey dye on the hair at their temples can do wonders toward making for a convincing story.

Still, these tricks can only carry them so far. Yuuri has gotten better at recognizing the signs of things taking a dangerous turn - the hushed whispers that stop when he enters a room, the speculative looks sent in his direction, the glimmer of fear behind eyes that only used to hold kindness - and he’s taught everything he knows to Phichit.

Too many red flags and it’s time for them to pack up and disappear. It’s a system that’s worked well for them with success being measured as another day that they’re alive with their secret safe.

“Good morning, Yuuko-chan,” he says warmly in spite of all his best self preservation instincts to protect his heart. He slides a coffee cup across the counter. “I got you your favorite since it's such a cold morning.”

Yuuko beams back at him. “Thank you,” she chirps. “If you hurry, you’ll have about thirty minutes on the rink to yourself before your first student.”

Yuuri forces a polite smile. At best, he's a dime a dozen skater. It still surprises him that Yuuko encourages him to teach and trusts him with students.

It started three years ago as a favor to Yuuko when she begged him to fill in for an absent teacher but it’s evolved into a semi-formal arrangement with Yuuri taking on the occasional student looking for private lessons in lieu of paying his rink membership fees. The only thing Yuuri has going for him is endless time to devote toward skating practice which isn't exactly something that he can coach into his students. It’s a wonder that students keep requesting him as their teacher.

“Thank you,” he says. “You mentioned yesterday that he’s new to our rink. Is he a beginner?”

Yuuko’s fingers fly across the keyboard one handed with graceful ease as she watches the computer monitor over the top of her coffee cup. “Yep,” she reports, lowering the cup again to speak. “His name is Viktor. I'll send him in when he arrives.”

With a grateful nod, Yuuri heads over to the dressing room, stowing away his winter coat, hat, scarf, and backpack in his customary locker in a hurry. He dragged himself out of bed at an ungodly hour to have precious time on the rink to himself. He isn't going to waste the time dawdling now.

He jogs over to the rink, laces up, tucks his earbuds in place, and stashes his antiquated but serviceable iPod in his pants pocket before gliding onto the ice.

He takes a few laps around the rink, stretching his legs as he falls automatically into a familiar set of warm up exercises. They're not needed to serve any real purpose but they're important for him to continue practicing so that he can demonstrate to his students.

It's rare for him to fall on the ice nowadays and with his near instantaneous healing capability, even the worst fall is completely inconsequential for his body. If anything, falling is more of a hassle as it’s a drain on his acting skills to consciously remember to limp around for a reasonable amount of time and beg off all offers of help to wrap supposedly banged up knees or sprained ankles.

He scans the perimeter of the rink and to be extra cautious, takes out one earbud to listen. The only person in the building is Yuuko and she’s still stationed at the reception desk, sipping away at her coffee while typing.

Pushing off with his left leg, he closes his eyes and whips himself effortlessly into a series of jumps and spins as he gains speed, peace and calm rippling through his body as he flies across the ice, chaining jump after spin after jump together.

He’s lost track of his movements as he eases out of a sit spin, opening his eyes again reluctantly to the world and nearly squeaking as his eyes meet impossibly blue ones looking back at him from the other side of the rink boards.

“Are you Yuuri?” the other man calls out. “That was amazing.”

Yuuri nods slowly, gobsmacked and momentarily speechless. He pulls his earbuds out and shoves them in his pocket.

This is bizarre. Even though he was tuned out just now, he can always sense when others are approaching and it’s never been a problem before.

“Viktor?” he hazards a guess, earning a beaming smile in reward. As he skates over to Viktor, his heart flutters, perking up with interest even as adrenaline zips its way around his body. That smile is criminally dangerous, even more so when seen up close. “I’m sorry. Were you waiting long?” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, tugging it down self consciously.

“I just walked in. I’m sorry for interrupting. It’s almost my lesson time so I thought I should get ready,” Viktor says, holding up a pair of skates by the laces. “Should I come back in a bit?”

Yuuri takes in a tiny breath. They’re the standard issue skates that Ice Castle Hasetsu rents out by the hour and Yuuko-chan said Viktor is a beginner. Surely Viktor isn’t savvy enough to understand anything he may have seen. Yuuri forces a smile. If he acts normal, then it won’t be suspicious, he reminds himself firmly.

“No, that’s okay,” Yuuri says, wincing inwardly as the words come out a beat too quickly. So much for the acting normal plan. “Lacing up your skates properly is a key lesson so I’m glad we can start there.”

He glides over to the exit and reaches for his skate guards, balancing himself on the rink boards as he slips the guards on. “Let’s head over to the benches,” he gestures. “I’ll show you.”

Viktor follows with an eager nod and Yuuri fights the insane urge to straighten his back and suck in his gut.

“What was that last jump?” Viktor chirps. “A triple lutz?”

Yuuri breathes out slowly. Perfect. He doesn’t remember what he was doing but there are any number of jumps in his repertoire like the quintuple lutz and quintuple flip (among others that Yuuri doesn’t even have a name for) that should be technically impossible. He makes a noncommittal humming noise, patting the bench next to him.

“I want to learn that one first,” Viktor declares as he sits down and toes his sneakers off.

Yuuri laughs. Viktor’s enthusiasm is infectious. “Maybe another day,” he says lightly. “We’ll start with the basics.”

He lifts his own foot up and demonstrates how to ensure a snug fit. Viktor’s fingers are long and slim, lacing up with quick movements.

“Are you a complete beginner?” Yuuri inquires. “Or do you play hockey?” There’s something so sure about how Viktor’s hands move - usually, he only sees it in children who are too naive to know failure. It’s rarer to see this level of confidence in adults who typically have an underlying level of trepidation of falling that translates into hesitation right before stepping into the rink, regardless of how anxious they may be to learn.

Viktor stands up with only a slight bit of swaying. “I did some figure skating when I was younger,” he says. “But it’s been a long time so I’m pretty rusty.”

Yuuri smiles. “We’ll get you back in top form in no time then,” he says reassuringly, offering his arm for balance. Instead of holding onto his forearm, Viktor slides his hand into Yuuri’s. It’s pleasant and sends warm tingles down Yuuri’s spine.

He walks them over to the entrance to the rink and loathe to let go, he tugs his skate guards off one-handedly and steps into the rink before helping Viktor with his own, more tingles shooting through his body like fireworks as Viktor uses his free hand to balance on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri backs up a bit to give his student space and Viktor steps onto the ice eagerly, knees wobbling. In this environment where Yuuri has the upper hand, Viktor looks much less like a god with perfect hair and more like an adorable newborn foal finding his footing.

“You’re doing great,” Yuuri reassures him, biting back a smile. “We’ll start off by getting a feel for the ice. Just follow me.” He pushes off with his left foot and tightens his grip on Viktor’s hand, pulling him along in a small glide across the ice.

“Whoooaa,” Viktor says breathlessly, hunching over.

Yuuri yelps as he glances back to the sight of Viktor with his knees locked up and over-correcting to the right. He turns quickly and catches him in his arms, swallowing hard and cheeks heating up as their bodies collide and they come to a jarring stop.

His face is somewhere in Viktor’s neck and he smells absolutely _delicious_. This close, he can also hear the slow, steady beating of his heart. Shit. He licks his lips and scrambles away hastily, squeaking as he accidentally jerks Viktor forward with him. Oh. Right. They're still holding hands.

He presses his lips together and counts to three slowly, waiting until the fogginess in his brain clears up. It’s been so long since he’s had any blood lust urges. Were the urges this strong before? He wants to do nothing more than push Viktor against any and all vertical or horizontal surfaces and taste him. He shoves these ideas aside ruthlessly. “Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Viktor gives him another brilliant smile. “I’m fine,” he chirps. “Thank you for catching me. Can we try that again?”

The rest of the lesson goes without incident. Viktor is a bubbling cauldron of easy conversation and in between Yuuri demonstrating how to push off on each leg and do slow, large figure eights, he learns that Viktor moved to Detroit from St. Petersburg last year and he’s living with his poodle in the downtown area by the Opera House.

\--

The rest of the day speeds by in a blur of more skating and grocery shopping. It's only when he’s back home, sprawled on the couch, that he has a chance to mull things over.

His unease from the morning returns, settling in his belly like a pit of tar. He must be getting lax. First, he missed Viktor coming into the rink and then he had a flare-up of blood lust. He licks his lips. Viktor’s signed up for daily lessons. If this pattern continues, it is going to be rough on his nerves.

“Phichit,” he says, stretching his hands out.

Phichit pushes the tub of cookie dough ice cream across the coffee table with his foot and makes a sympathetic noise. Yuuri leans forward and snags the carton before it tips over the edge, shoving a spoonful in his mouth, wincing and shivering in self induced masochistic pleasure as the cold hits his sinuses.

“Why don’t you ask Yuuko to reassign Viktor?” Phichit says. “You've only had one lesson so surely he won't mind switching teachers.”

Yuuri’s heart wails immediately at this suggestion and he flushes. “I liked our lesson,” Yuuri says meekly, licking the spoon and digging in the carton for another bite before setting the carton down.

Phichit grins, eyes lighting up with interest. “So he's hot?”

Yuuri pointedly ignores the question. He's pretty sure his bright red cheeks are giving everything away anyway.

“Then continue working with the eye candy and consider it training to keep your skills sharp,” Phichit advises.

Yuuri perks up, liking this idea. It’s true. It’s been ages since he’s even had any hint of blood lust. This is a rare opportunity to practice his self control in a safe setting. He’ll be on alert and can push Viktor away if there is any danger to him; he did it today and can do it again. This is a great idea.

**Misconception - Vampires Can’t Stand Sunlight**

This is a terrible idea.

Viktor shows up promptly for his morning session, looking even more gorgeous than Yuuri’s memory. Yuuri can’t tear his eyes away from the graceful sweep of silver grey hair and the long lines of Viktor’s arms and legs.

It gets easier halfway through their lesson as other skaters start trailing into the rink, providing extra sources of distraction as Yuuri diverts more brain power toward carving out a safe area on the ice for them to practice their footwork and less brain power toward trying to figure out how Viktor would taste. Yuuri forces through the rest of the lesson through sheer willpower and determination.

\--

“How was your day?” Phichit inquires.

“Fine,” Yuuri says bleakly and fully unconvincingly. He would've sounded more enthusiastic in reporting a revival of werewolves in the area.

Phichit tilts his head and instead of pushing him to expound further, sets Snowflake into Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri uses the tip of his finger to stroke the hamster down her back absentmindedly. It’s unfair. No one should shine so brightly like the sun - he is starting to feel like some unfortunate moth, drawn inexorably closer to Viktor. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing and it would be Viktor who loses if Yuuri can’t control himself properly.

Phichit loops an arm around Yuuri’s back. “You know I’m here for you,” he says. “If you’re feeling thirsty, we could try.”

Yuuri shakes his head firmly, straightening up with resolve. Phichit has a standing offer to let Yuuri drink from him if he ever felt like he couldn’t control himself; he’s never taken him up on it. “And break my winning streak and love affair with steak tartare?”

“Almost brought you over to the dark side this time,” Phichit teases.

Yuuri snorts. It's the pick up speech he needed. There is absolutely no way he is going to lose control over his principles, gorgeous ocean blue eyes and legs that go on for miles notwithstanding.

\--

His next lesson with Viktor is toward the end of the day. As with their two morning lessons, the rink is fairly empty with the last few skaters trailing out as Viktor walks in.

Yuuri's eyes go wide.

Viktor beams at him. “I thought I should look the part of a skater if I’m getting serious about practice,” he says as if that is a reasonable explanation for why they are currently dressed in matching black cotton shirts and trackpants.

“They're just regular exercise clothes,” Yuuri snorts. “There’s nothing special about what I’m wearing.”

“Nonsense. I feel more like a skater already.” Viktor's smile is sweeter than honey. “I couldn't find gloves to match though.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. Before his mouth can catch up to his brain, he finds himself sharing, “I have an extra pair at home. I can bring them in tomorrow.”

“Please don't go to the trouble,” Viktor says.

“No trouble at all,” Yuuri insists, doubling down on his offer.

“Are you headed home after this lesson?”

Again, Yuuri's body is a traitor and he's nodding.

“Excellent. I can just follow you to get them to save you the trouble,” Viktor declares, reaching out for Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri blinks, mystified at the rapid turn of events. He feels vaguely bamboozled even as his heart flutters at the idea of spending more time with Viktor.

**Vampires Need to be Invited Across a Threshold**

He pauses in front of the door of his apartment, taking a second to gather his thoughts as he digs in his coat pocket for the keys.

Viktor insisted they drive to Yuuri's apartment instead of walking which he reluctantly agreed to if only because it wouldn't make sense to force Viktor to walk back to the rink by himself afterward.

Viktor's car is a ridiculous lipstick pink in a model that Yuuri hasn't seen on the streets for a while with an open top and wide bucket seats.

Everything about the experience of the drive over with the wind in his hair and watching Viktor's hands moving deftly from wheel to stickshift left him out of sorts and unprepared to consider how he would deal with Viktor in his apartment.

He turns the key reluctantly. It's not like he can ask Viktor to wait outside - that would be plain rude. He isn't even sure where he set aside the extra gloves and it may take him a while to dig them up.

Now that Viktor's physically here, he needs to buckle down, stash Viktor in the living room, and scramble to find the gloves. It’s the quickest way to end this new form of sweet torture he invited upon himself.

Viktor steps in behind him and despite being in this exact same position in the past with Phichit as they readied themselves to leave or came back home together, the entranceway feels too cramped to hold two people.

Yuuri inches forward and gestures at the door behind Viktor. “Can you turn the lock please?”

Yuuri hangs up his bag and toes off his sneakers as Viktor fiddles with the door. He pulls out the guest slippers, setting them down near Viktor.

Yuuri looks up in time to see Phichit poking his head around the corner. “Oh, Phichit! You're home too.” His smile falters as Phichit shoots him his patented “You have some explaining to do” face. It's gone in a flash and Yuuri blinks. Did he miss it?

“Oh and we have a guest. Welcome,” Phichit says smoothly. To an untrained non best friend ear, it sounds warm, open, and friendly. To Yuuri, it sounds like Phichit is suggesting that Viktor might be more comfortable with a kick in the butt to toss him out the door.

Yuuri walks toward the living room with Viktor trailing behind him. When they're all together, Yuuri gestures at Viktor. “Phichit, this is one of my skating students. Viktor, this is my roommate Phichit.”

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor says, extending his hand. “It's nice to meet you.” Phichit raises his eyebrows but accepts the handshake.

Yuuri shifts his weight on his feet nervously. “Viktor needs skating gloves. I was going to give him my extra pair.”

Phichit’s head swivels towards him. “I see,” he says.

Yuuri thinks Phichit doesn't see at all but he has no time to dissect this new nugget of information. He flaps his hands and gestures at the couch. “I'll be right back. Please have a seat, Viktor.”

Unwilling to risk being a witness to the awkward atmosphere he is leaving behind in his wake, he darts off to his bedroom without glancing back. Phichit has enough social graces to take care of Viktor for a few minutes. He's even witnessed him talking to inanimate objects before with a running commentary.

Still, as Yuuri tosses the contents of his dresser around in frantic search of the elusive gloves, he can't help but feel the twinge of uncertainty coming back. There is a distinct, unfriendly air around Phichit’s welcome that is unsettling.

Spotting the gloves tucked into the corner of the drawer, he plucks them forth triumphantly and hurries back to the living room.

The sight that greets him is much less troubling than he expected. They are both seated, companionably sipping tea, which poses its own set of problems. Assuming that Phichit didn't manage to find some poison to add to Viktor's mug, Yuuri has to find some other way to hustle him out the door.

Phichit smiles at him, gesturing at a mug on the coffee table. “Already made you a cup too,” he chirps.

Yuuri shoots him a dismayed look. This is extremely unhelpful in the _hustle Viktor out of the door_ plan.

There's only one seat available - the empty spot next to Viktor on the loveseat couch. He perches on the edge. The cushions are threadbare and the springs are in even worse shape, rolling him immediately toward the center. He corrects himself hastily before he falls into Viktor’s lap, tensing his muscles as he reaches for his mug before aborting that idea.

Yuuri can see it in Phichit’s eyes - the gleam of having first dibs over a juicy piece of gossip. He can see it coming but he can no more stop it than he can flag down the Nozomi shinkansen during rush hour to Tokyo. The most he can do is stop himself from touching the mug, certain that there is going to be something coming next that will cause him to drop it if he has it in hand. You can say many things about his best friend, but Phichit never fails to disappoint Yuuri.

“So, Viktor. When were you turned?” Phichit inquires, all sweet cherubic innocence.

“What?” Yuuri and Viktor say simultaneously.

Yuuri whips his head back and forth between Phichit and Viktor. Phichit smiles serenely back at him and Viktor’s eyes are wide, deep pools of blue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Misconception - Vampires are Perceptive**

Viktor turns his attention to Yuuri. Yuuri's eyes are as huge as saucers behind his glasses, jaw hanging open. “It's okay,” he hurries to reassure. “I'm not offended.”

He's definitely surprised, but not offended. It's not the done thing in the Old World to discuss lineage so frankly. Before he moved to the States, Yakov lectured him extensively on how things were _different_ in the New World and that Viktor would need to adapt. Yakov had also finished off his monologue with relish with the addition of unflattering commentary on Viktor’s judgement - lack thereof, that is - but he can prove Yakov wrong and show Phichit and Yuuri that he isn't averse to sharing information about his background. 

He puffs up with confidence at this new challenge. Come to think of it, as Yuuri's friend, it is the responsible thing for Phichit to investigate all of Yuuri's new acquaintances so it is only natural that the conversation has taken this turn. He can already tell that he is going to become excellent friends with Phichit.

“Okay?” Yuuri croaks. 

Viktor blinks rapidly, eyes growing wide. Yuuri definitely does not sound anywhere near okay. He picks up Yuuri's mug of tea, pressing it urgently into his hands, stopping one step short of needing to mold Yuuri’s hands around the curve of the mug handle. 

Yuuri’s grip on the mug is firm - too tight - knuckles turning white. The silence in the room is broken by Yuuri slurping loudly. 

Viktor winces in sympathy. The mug was still hot to the touch, steam rolling off the top when he handed it off. Near instant healing capabilities or not, that couldn't have done any favors for Yuuri’s tongue. He waits patiently until Yuuri sets the mug down and is looking at him again. “I wasn't turned,” he explains. “I was born a vampire.”

“I thought so,” Phichit says, eyes gleaming. “You're from _the_ Nikiforov line, right?”

“The one and same,” Viktor says modestly. He’s proud of his heritage but he doesn’t make a habit of flaunting it. That would be unseemly.

“Wait. What?” Yuuri says. “Nikiforov?”

“Yes…?” Viktor says hesitantly. A tingling at the base of his spine is telling him that it isn't just the pronunciation of his last name that Yuuri is struggling over. 

“Can we back up a few steps?” Yuuri says, eyes still distressingly huge. 

Phichit turns to Viktor. “Back up a few steps,” he repeats helpfully in this curious game of telephone. 

There's an awful lot of repetition in the last few exchanges. It's making Viktor's head whirl to keep up even as they circle around again. Yuuri is examining him like a specimen under a microscope, his expression inscrutable. Viktor shifts uneasily, wary of the palpable tension in the room. Of course, he knows that there are plenty of born-vampires who look down upon the ones who are turned. But he wasn’t raised to think that way at all. “I’m sorry I didn't share my family name before,” he says contritely. 

This is unexpected and far from his image of how this evening would proceed. Yuuri looks intensely uncomfortable with the situation, squirming to put distance between them on the sofa, efforts severely hindered as his socked feet scrabble uselessly for purchase on the slick wooden floor.

“No. It's not that. I mean the part about vampires,” Yuuri says, giving up on the floor and curling his legs up to his chest.

“I believe what Yuuri is trying to convey is ‘Excuse me, Viktor. Did you say you're a vampire?’” Phichit translates with grim cheer. 

Yuuri’s squawk of distress confirms Phichit’s interpretation.

Viktor wrinkles his forehead, mystified. “Well, yes,” he says slowly.

Phichit hops up from the armchair to perch on the sofa’s arm, pulling Yuuri in protectively to his side. Yuuri tucks himself in and turns to gape at Viktor again.

It’s Viktor’s turn to boggle. “Wait. You mean you didn’t know, Yuuri?” 

“No,” Yuuri snaps, eyes glittering and chin stuck out in the air. 

Viktor’s jaw drops. Even the youngest newborn should be able to recognize their own kind. Has the state of turned vampires gotten to be so dreadful? Well, no. That can't be it either. Phichit sensed him from at least three blocks away when they were stopped at the red light. “When were you turned?” he inquires. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds hastily for avoidance of risking any additional misunderstandings on this point.

Phichit points to himself. “1950s,” he says and then ruffles Yuuri’s hair, “And this one was around the 1900s.”

“Amazing,” Viktor murmurs. “How are you still alive?” he marvels. There’s any number of dangers that could have befallen Yuuri in the past century with this level of oblivious unawareness - territorial vampires fighting him for encroaching on their hunting grounds, humans brandishing fire and brimstone, his own ineptitude leading to a mistake. 

Shit. It’s entirely the wrong thing to say. Yuuri’s shoulders are hunching up defensively. Viktor's managed to shove his foot in his mouth again.

“I’m careful,” Yuuri says curtly. 

The sound cuts into Viktor sharply and he fights back a flinch. It's no coincidence that Yakov’s other favorite lecture topic is Viktor's selfishness and inability to empathize. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Phichit curls an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Perhaps you would like to check out our front door?” he suggests with a raised eyebrow. “It's quite lovely in the evening.”

Viktor tips his head forward apologetically. If he wasn't so busy backpedalling now, he would be duly impressed with Phichit's ice cold glare as he stared him down along his nose. 

“No, wait,” Viktor says hastily, hands held up placatingly. “I can help.”

“It's a very nice door,” Phichit says blandly. 

Viktor has no doubt that if it was not for Phichit's conflicting priority of holding on to Yuuri, Viktor would already be on the other side of the door with a Phichit shaped footprint on his ass. 

“Perhaps I could be of service,” Viktor says, smiling winningly. 

“What do you mean?” Yuuri says, eyes narrowed. 

A spark of hope flutters in Viktor's chest. “I can be your coach!” he chirps. “I’ll teach you everything there is to know about being a vampire.”

Phichit and Yuuri exchange glances, holding a full conversation with their eyes and facial expressions. Viktor bites his lip, twinge of jealousy poking him sharply in the side. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, turning back to him. “If you agree to the conditions.”

“Sure,” Viktor says, relief blurring the edge of his nerves. 

The corner of Yuuri's mouth twitches up. Viktor relaxes, shoulders pressing back into the couch.

“You haven't even heard the conditions yet,” Yuuri points out. 

“I'm sure they're reasonable,” Viktor says. It occurs to him that it really would’ve been the smart thing to listen to the conditions first. No matter. This method is more exciting.

“I don’t drink human blood,” Yuuri says.

“Or vampire blood,” Phichit adds helpfully.

Viktor blinks, flabbergasted for the second time in as many minutes. They’re both staring at him intently. The puzzle pieces click into place rapidly. Of course. It explains why Yuuri's senses are so dull. Then - at the rink that first day - when Yuuri had looked up at him even though he had his earbuds plugged in…! That was an utter mistake - not the confident carelessness that he had thought it to be. It also explains why Yuuri smells so intriguing. He looks at Yuuri through the lens of this new knowledge. Yes. It's even more clear than before that Yuuri needs his help. 

“I can work with that,” Viktor says with confidence. He's never been a mentor but how hard could it be?

\--

After another few minutes of pleasantries, Phichit gets to exercise his suggestion and shows Viktor the front door of their apartment, albeit with much less rancor than when he originally recommended the view. As soon as Viktor is outside, he bounces back to the living room, eager to discuss with Yuuri. 

In the short time that he was gone, Yuuri has shifted positions and is currently doing an excellent impression of a puddle on the couch, plastered against it with his forearm resting against his eyes and glasses pushed up his forehead. Okay. Yuuri is decidedly less ready for more conversation.

Phichit whistles low as he gathers up the mugs and rinses them off in the sink. He waits until he can no longer hear the hum of Viktor’s car engine before taking up residence next to Yuuri on the couch, pushing Yuuri's feet out of the way to make room. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phichit inquires.

“No,” Yuuri mumbles. “Yes,” he corrects himself a beat later. 

Phichit’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “He seems nice,” he ventures. It’s somewhat reassuring that Viktor is from an established and esteemed bloodline. They must have morals and values against chomping on fellow vampires. At any rate, he didn't sense any malice or ill will from Viktor. “You didn't mention his last name before.”

Yuuri lowers his arm and adjusts his glasses. “Didn't know it,” he says. “Why? Does it matter?”

Phichit is aghast. “He's a _Nikiforov_.”

Yuuri stares blankly at him. “Is he trending on the Twitter?” 

“Twitter,” Phichit corrects automatically. But excellent point. He makes a mental note to check social media for any presence. Internet sleuthing never hurt as a precaution. “And no, not a Twitter thing. Nikiforov is one of the oldest vampire bloodlines,” he explains. “Traces back for millennia, highly respected, and straight out of Russia proper.” 

Yuuri shrugs helplessly. “I stopped studying history when I started living it,” he grumbles. 

“Point,” Phichit concedes. “Come on. Let’s have dinner and then it’s off to bed for you. I feel like I should be sharpening a box of pencils for your first day of vampire school.”

Yuuri snort giggles and Phichit beams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - Yuuri learns all about being a vampire :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor meet up the day after the surprise reveal to get some initial paperwork out of the way for Yuuri's vampire apprenticeship :D

“It’s a short test,” Viktor says, sliding papers and a pen across the diner table. “I want to measure your baseline knowledge.”

Yuuri slurps his tea, throat feeling less constricted as the warm liquid soothes his nerves. To kickstart Yuuri's vampire lessons, Viktor suggested meeting up at the diner by the rink in lieu of his scheduled skating lesson time. Yuuri didn't expect Viktor to put this much effort into it and prepare a test. Though come to think of it, it's a surprisingly sensible tactic. 

When Yuuko sends him new non-beginner students, he starts by gauging their abilities on the ice. The first lesson is always a set of increasingly advanced drills while he takes notes on form and areas of difficulty in order to tailor his instruction. This must be Viktor’s goal as well. Yuuri straightens up self-consciously, squaring his shoulders back, ashamed that he underestimated Viktor and determined to take his vampire classes just as seriously. 

It’s the unknown unknowns that are insidiously dangerous. He has to seize this opportunity to fill in his knowledge gaps. It's not as if there’s a “how to be a vampire for dummies” self-help book series he can borrow from the library or professional development conferences geared for vampires with an alternative lifestyle - or perhaps those are things that _do_ exist. He doesn't have the foggiest clue. 

“I haven’t taken a test in forever,” Yuuri admits. Phichit is going to _love_ this. Setting his social network butterfly tendencies aside, Phichit is a serious scholar. 

Phichit is working on his fourth bachelor’s degree since they met - this time in computer science. He enjoys attending college every decade or so to catch up on the latest developments and always graduates with honors near the top of his class. 

Yuuri prefers self-study. While he's competitive by nature and misses the rush of working for the highest score in the class, tests are unnecessary stressful - even when he knows logically that he has nothing to lose. With individual lessons with Viktor, he only needs to beat himself and improve. 

“It's more of an intake form. It should be quick,” Viktor chirps. 

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at this last bit and thumbs through the papers, fanning them out on the table. Even with endless time on their hands, completing this stack is no quick endeavor by any stretch of the imagination or definition of the word. 

“It’s just 23 pages! There’s short answer questions so that's taking up space.” Viktor leans across the table to shuffle through the papers, pointing animatedly at several areas. 

The movement shifts Viktor’s loose fitting sweater forward and Yuuri blinks. There's a hint of collarbone exposed now. It’s bad enough that the navy color is setting off the blue in Viktor’s eyes, but the v-neckline drags Yuuri’s eyes down the broad expanse of Viktor’s shoulders and chest. 

This test is _rigged_. There’s no way he can concentrate with his proctor distracting him and boggling his senses. 

Yuuri swallows hard, breathing in deeply. He can feel his will bending to Viktor's wishes. And not a whisper of glamour in the air. Viktor is impressive. This is definitely a skill he needs to polish. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says quickly, taking repossession of the papers. “I'll get started. Can you order food for us at the counter?”

Viktor jumps to his feet. “Sure. What do you want?”

Yuuri blinks, momentarily thrown again. He suspects that it's been many a moon - if ever - since Viktor Nikiforov was forced to do something that he was not interested in doing but he seems downright eager to run this errand. He must be anxious to get started too. It suits Yuuri just fine. “I'm not too picky. Surprise me,” he suggests. 

Yuuri reaches into his pocket for his wallet but Viktor is scurrying off before he can finish pulling it out. He sets the wallet on the table with a tiny sigh and bends his attention to the test. 

He skims the first page. Viktor wasn't kidding. The test is similar to an intake form. 

It's quite thorough, cataloging his contact info, birthdate as a human and as a vampire, height, weight, past injuries and illnesses, and family history. He decides to skip the last section. Viktor doesn't strike him as malicious with an agenda to track down his family in Japan but working with Viktor is a risk that he's taking on himself. There's no need to drag his mom, dad, or Mari into it. It's better to be safe and careful. 

The remaining questions on the other pages are a mix of short answer responses to scenarios and true / false questions. He's so engrossed in scribbling down answers that he barely registers Viktor’s return until he slides back into the booth, pushing a plate of fragrant omelette, toast, and bacon his way. It's breakfast for lunch with a smiley face in ketchup on the eggs. 

Viktor has finished all of his own food and is helping himself to a slice of Yuuri’s toast before Yuuri sets his pen down, flexing his hand to work through the cramp. “Thanks for getting the food. How much do I owe you?”

“Don't worry about it,” Viktor says. “I started in on your plate anyway.”

Yuuri hesitates and frowns. He doesn't like the idea owing anyone a favor. It's a level of casualness and familiarity that makes him feel uneasy. “I'll buy next time then.”

Viktor quirks a smile and Yuuri flushes. Was that too forward? Viktor probably doesn't even bother with regular food and just ate today to be polite. 

Or... oh god. 

Is Viktor a dangerous vampire? The kind who sucks humans dry and leaves them for dead like empty corn husks?! Or the rogue kind who hunts fellow vampires for sport?

Yuuri squirms in his seat, uncomfortably aware that he doesn't know an awful lot about Viktor aside from Phichit’s trivia that Nikiforov is some frou frou bloodline and that he is an adorable baby fawn on ice. 

“Sounds great,” Viktor says. 

Yuuri startles, shaken from his inner monologue. “Oh, okay.”

Viktor tugs the papers out from under Yuuri’s hands and leans back, lounging in the vinyl bench like it was the plushest of couches. His head is tilted down and Yuuri thinks it is a marvel that he can see anything at all through his bangs. It seems to be working for him though - aside from occasional low hum and the spinning of the pen between his slender fingers, Viktor is quiet and motionless. His hair looks soft and shiny, gleaming like spun silver in the sunshine filled booth. 

Yuuri shivers and pulls the rim of his beanie hat down, settling it low on his forehead and close to brushing up against his glasses. 

Of course Viktor agreed to another meal. He just ate a full plate and then some - he likes regular food too. And he seems so normal and nice. Why else would Viktor volunteer to be his life coach?

Besides, on a more practical level, Yuuri must not taste very good. Viktor can't possibly want to suck him dry. He's probably like the stale beef jerky of vampires - definitely not as juicy or tender as a regular vampire. 

Mildly reassured that he's not about to turn into a snack for Viktor, Yuuri picks at the food on his plate, forming an open faced sandwich with the toast as a base and egg and bacon piled on top. He squeezes a generous amount of ketchup on top before taking a bite. It's satisfyingly crunchy and salty but does little to chip away at his hunger. Instead, the act of chewing is waking his hunger pangs up with a vengeance. 

He glances around. The diner is bustling with customers and the staff are rushing from table to table with pots of coffees or piles of dirty dishes. Viktor shows no signs of speeding up - he's only set two pages aside. Yuuri’s stomach growls again and Viktor looks up, tossing the bangs out of his eyes with a shake of his head. 

“Hungry?” 

“A bit. I brought lunch.” Yuuri blushes, fumbling with the zipper to his bag. There's a hint of something in Viktor’s eyes that he can't decipher.

He pulls out his fork and sets his tupperware of steak tartare next to his plate. The silverware at the diner is sensible stainless steel without a hint of real silver in it but it still makes him feel safer to use his own utensils. 

He digs in, alternating forkfuls of meat with bites of his toast sandwich. The cold pack in his lunch bag kept the meat chilled sufficiently so the meat is still quite tasty, especially paired with the runny yolks of the eggs. It's a treat to splurge to eat food that doesn't add to his sustenance. 

The tension headache ebbs as the hunger pangs fade. “I'm so sorry. That was rude of me to eat without offering you any. Would you like some?” Yuuri blushes. 

Viktor shakes his head. “No thanks,” he says. “I'm still pretty full.”

Yuuri shoves a forkful in his mouth and chews to keep his traitorous mouth occupied. Oh right. Viktor looks to be in the prime of health. He likely has no trouble pulling regular meals. 

“No need to rush,” Viktor says. He taps the papers into a neat pile before tucking them into his bag. “You don't want to choke.” He punctuates this last sentence with a broad wink. 

Yuuri slows down to measured chewing and swallowing. This is true. An excellent first lesson. “Choking” leads to making an unsightly scene. Making a scene in public leads to overly friendly bystanders calling in unnecessary ambulances with their new fangled machines and sharp needles when vampires can't actually choke to death. 

Viktor pulls the condiment tray closer and plucks out the jar of strawberry jam. He twists off the cap and shakes a generous dollop into his tea, stirring it in with vigor with his teaspoon. 

Yuuri observes this curious scene over the top of his own mug of tea. Ah. Viktor is so brave and bold to use unknown cutlery so casually. 

This jam in tea combination must be the effect of vampire tastebuds. The blood diet can lead to vampires having peculiar tastes and cravings in human food. Phichit is quite fond of making curry with pickles and Mari’s go to snack is dipping somen in a sriracha and orange soda sauce. With his low blood diet, Yuuri is grateful that he isn’t subjected to the urges of strange food combinations.

Viktor sips his tea and licks his lips before dropping in another large dose of jam. 

Yuuri reaches for the jam and shakes a sizeable clump into his own mug, stirring it in with his fork until the jam shows signs of breaking up into smaller chunks. The mess looks unappetizing and lumpy. He forces himself to bring the mug to his lips. 

This is good training. He's 99% sure that Viktor isn't dangerous. It would be an ill-advised long con to go to the trouble of creating such an extensive test if Viktor wanted him dead. But on the off chance that Yuuri unexpectedly comes across a vampire of unknown character in the future, he needs to be accustomed to displaying vampire traits so as to not have any visible signs of weakness. Having strange taste in human food is a minor but crucial detail for normal vampires. 

He sips at the tea and fights the urge to spit it back into the mug. It’s cloyingly sweet. 

Viktor gives him a sympathetic look. “It tastes better when the water is boiling hot.”

Yuuri doesn't think that hot water would solve the problem. “I'll take your word for it,” he says diplomatically. 

Viktor snorts, mouth crinkling up in a grin. 

Yuuri can't help but mirror his grin. Viktor is easy to talk to and although it's second nature by now to hide his secret, it's a huge relief that he doesn't need to do that around Viktor. 

He finishes off the last of his steak tartare and eyes his tea longingly. It would've been nice to round off his meal. He settles for sipping at his glass of water, finishing it in two gulps. 

Yuuri sets the glass down and picks up his phone, nearly yelping when he sees the time. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I have a lesson in ten minutes.” He scrambles to his feet, tucking his empty lunchbox and fork back into his lunchbag.

Viktor makes shooing motions with his hands. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow for my lesson.” 

Yuuri inclines his head in gratitude and hoists his backpack up higher on his shoulders. “See you tomorrow,” he echoes. Viktor smiles sweetly and Yuuri’s heart flutters in protest as he walks away. Viktor is _awfully_ good at glamour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops the plot is going slower than I originally planned. I updated the estimated chapter count :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand Yuri joins the cast of characters! This chapter is set about two days after the last chapter.

**Truth: Vampires have excellent teeth.**

Yuri blows his bangs away from his eyes in a huff. 

He's already flipped through the tv channels too many times to count and he can't find anything interesting on his phone. He's even resorted to reading the magazines on the coffee table in the minuscule waiting area. This is _insufferable_. It's cruel and unusual punishment to be cooped up all day. He is literally about to die of boredom. 

Viktor should crawl back inside whatever damp cave he came from and catch mold poisoning.

It's not like Vikor even has that many patients to merit a receptionist. There was a grand total of four patients today. The old fart could have fended for himself. 

And Georgi! The next time he sees that idiot, he's going to punt him out the window. And then jump out after him so he can kick his ass again. 

Yuri can't decide who is worse. It's Georgi’s fault for going on vacation and putting the idea in Viktor's head in the first place. But it's Viktor who latched onto the suggestion and is forcing him to cover for Georgi under the bullshit excuse that having a job would build character. That's just a load of crap. He has plenty of character already. 

He’s in the middle of rummaging in the desk drawer to find something to hone the long, blunt letter opener into a more weapon-worthy item to welcome Georgi home when he senses the presence of a vampire a few blocks away. 

His right ear twitches and he moves to the window, pressing his ear up against the glass. He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates. Nothing about this vampire sounds familiar - the heart flutters too quickly, the steps on the ground are a little too heavy to match. And worse, it's getting closer. 

Yuri takes a deep breath, consciously holding back on the urge to bare his fangs. There's no indication that the other vampire is dangerous. Malicious intent has a way of seeping out from even the most sophisticated cloak. It must simply be a stranger.

As an extra precaution, he tilts his head to parse Viktor's reaction. Viktor's heartbeat is familiar and steady, betraying no signs of agitation. Loathe as he is to admit it, with Viktor's skill, he must've sensed the other vampire from even further away. If the old fart is being irritatingly normal, nothing must be awry. Yuri plops back into his chair. 

“It's okay. I'm expecting him,” Viktor calls out from the other room. 

Yuri takes a deep breath as his irritation ratchets back up to 120% and fights the urge to grind his teeth. That would only lead to more unpleasantness with Viktor trying to cram his sausage fingers in his mouth. 

“I know that,” he yells back. It took him a second longer to piece the clues together but he figured it out. He doesn't need Viktor to coddle him all the time. It's disgraceful, condescending, and annoying. 

Yuri fixes his best welcoming scowl on his face, eying the front door as the steps get progressively closer. 

There's a blur of color out of the corner of his eye to coincide with the soft ding of the elevator stopping on their floor and Viktor is standing by the front door, shaking his head to resettle his hair, primping and preening like a pea brained peacock. 

Yuri gapes at him, too pissed off to make more than a passing effort at voicing his disgruntlement. It comes out as a strangled growl. 

Un-freaking-believable. Death by boredom all day and here is the blatant confirmation that he doesn't even need to be here. 

Viktor clearly doesn't need a receptionist if he's going to rush the door like that. Not that Yuri is interested in doing work but it's the _principle_ of the thing. 

At the precise second that the footsteps come to a stop at the doorstep, Viktor pulls the door open. “Welcome! Please come in. Did you have a hard time finding the office? How is the weather outside?”

Yuri shudders. Gross. If Viktor's voice gets any stickier, honeyed frogs will start jumping out of his mouth. 

Still, it isn't every day that he meets a new vampire so he lets curiosity get the better of him. He sits up straighter in his chair, craning his head to get a better look at the stranger around Viktor's giant bobble head. 

Viktor beckons the stranger in, closing the door behind him. Yuri slumps back down in his chair, the very picture of studied nonchalance. 

“Yuri, this is Yuri,” Viktor says. 

“What?” Yuri bawks inelegantly, startled out of his cool image. Either the old man is past his expiration date and in bonkers city, messing up a simple introduction or the other guy is also named Yuri. Both are unpleasant options.

“This is Yuuri,” Viktor repeats with an idiotic grin. “Longer vowel sound but isn’t it funny that your names are so similar, Yura?”

Yuri grimaces. This city is definitely not big enough to have two vampires named Yuri. Funny doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

He rocks to his feet and walks around the desk to get a better look and judge for himself. 

The imposter is wearing a battered brown coat so comically oversized that he's wallowing in it with the hem falling past mid-thigh. Judging by how inferior Yuuri is coming up a little short against Viktor, he is slightly taller but it's nothing that Yuri can't fix with a growth spurt. Shitty Yuuri's face is mostly obscured by a giant scarf but from what Yuri can tell, it's not particularly remarkable with the exception of eyeglasses. What the hell. What self respecting vampire wears glasses? It's a crappy, half-assed disguise on par with Superman and his Clark Kent alias. 

Nonexistent fashion sense aside, there's something distinctly _off_ about this vampire. And more worrying, the hair behind Yuri’s neck is prickling. The stranger feels oddly familiar but Yuri can't place him and this is a bizarre reaction to a new vampire, even if Viktor is vouching for him. He leans in and sniffs cautiously. 

At first whiff, Yuri recoils in confusion, eyes snapping to the stranger’s face. The last puzzle piece slots into place as the brown eyes match up with the scent. “It's you!” he blurts out, mouth falling open in shock. He should’ve realized it sooner.

Yuuri tugs his scarf down and smiles, open and sincere. “It's nice to see you again, Yuri.”

Viktor’s eyes are bright and wide with keen interest. “So you two already met?” 

A wave of panic threatens to crash over Yuri’s head. He’s coming up with a blank on how to explain the situation. Shit.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Not really. We've passed each other around town before but that's it.”

Yuri schools his face into a blank expression. Why didn't he think of that? Damn. It’s plausible enough but there's no way that Viktor would be satisfied with such a brief explanation. He turns toward Viktor to read his reaction while racking his brain for details to add on. It's a delicate balance but details can make a lie more believable whereas too many stink of amateurish embellishment. 

It's completely unnecessary. Viktor is beaming while gushing about how lovely it is for them to meet formally and spouting some dumb platitude about how vampires need to stick together. 

Yuri exhales slowly through his nose. First hurdle complete. With luck, Viktor will forget completely and never bring the topic up again. He's never been so glad that Viktor has a sieve for a brain. True to form, the old fart is already changing the topic. 

“Yuuri is here for his first free check-up,” Viktor says. 

Both Yuris latch onto the same word. “Free?” they yelp in unison. 

Yuri glares at Viktor. The old fart is loaded but it doesn’t take a genius to know that even the largest fortune can be chipped away easily. How is Viktor planning to pay him if he gives away his services? Judging by today’s turnout, it's not like they're being overrun with patients and rent in downtown can't come cheap. 

“That's not necessary,” Yuuri says with a frown. “I don't want to take advantage of your kindness.”

Yuri snorts as Viktor's eyes go wide like dinner plates. 

“It's not taking advantage,” Viktor says earnestly. “I offer all new patients a trial appointment. All I ask is that you repay me with referrals and a good review on Yelp.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. Okay. This is ridiculous and a shitty business model. Whatever. It's dumb Viktor's money and if he fails at this venture, then it's just that much quicker that they can return home to St. Petersburg. 

“I'm leaving,” Yuri announces, shoving his phone in his pocket and pushing past the other two. He has zero interest in this inane dance of etiquette of other Yuuri and Viktor flitting around trying to defer to each other. 

Plus, stupidity might be contagious.

\--

“Your time is valuable,” Yuuri says firmly. “I can't accept a free check-up. You're already offering me free coaching.”

Viktor purses his lips in thought. He's not completely clueless and out of touch. He knows that time is _theoretically_ important. But as an immortal, time has always stretched in front of him with no end in sight. 

It's mostly force of habit now and easier with electronics but he remembers a time when he had to train himself to consciously make note of the months and years passing, if only to know when to switch his wardrobe to blend in. He's never met another vampire who felt so strongly about time. Perhaps it's Yuuri's ties to his human life that bind him so fiercely to the concept? 

In any case, it's clear that this point is nonnegotiable with Yuuri. Viktor makes a mental note of this mystery to puzzle over later. 

“How about a trade of my time for yours then?” Viktor proposes.

Yuuri quirks an eyebrow. “A barter? You think you're up for an extended skating lesson?”

Viktor nods enthusiastically. “Of course. I think I'm making excellent progress these past few days and want to keep the momentum going.”

\--

Viktor ushers Yuuri in through the door to the exam room, following on his heels closely. 

It's a cozy room. The patient chair is the latest model, boasting gleaming metal and smooth black leather. It does, unfortunately, take up most of the floor space. 

They nearly bump hips as he comes up next to Yuuri. Viktor slides a half step to the side, catching himself from tripping over his feet by resting his hand on the chair. “I can take your bag and coat for you if you'd like. Or you can set them by the windowsill if you prefer.”

Yuuri shrugs off his backpack and coat, handing both to Viktor. “Thanks.”

Viktor hangs them on the hook behind the door before walking back to Yuuri. He gestures him toward the patient’s chair. “Please lay back and get comfortable.” Even as the words leave Viktor's mouth, a blush rises on his cheeks. He never realized it before but this particular phrase sounds so _scandalous_. 

He ducks his head to fuss with the tools on the instrument tray. It's wholly unnecessary - everything was freshly sanitized just an hour ago. If anything, he's only creating trouble for himself by moving things out of order. 

He risks peeking at Yuuri and relaxes. He's in luck. From the looks of things, Yuuri didn't read any innuendo into the instructions. 

Instead, Yuuri is flat on his back, eying the apparatus hanging off of the patient chair with a mixture of interest and wariness. It's the same appraising look Viktor was on the receiving end of when Yuuri initially found out he was a vampire. 

Viktor sits down on his own chair. “If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask,” he offers. 

Yuuri nods, tucking his chin into his chest. “Sounds good.” He gives a sheepish laugh, blush rising on his cheeks. “I bet you hear this all the time but I haven't been to the dentist in forever. Everything looks a bit intimidating.”

Viktor hits the preset button to adjust the height and incline to his preferred position as he scoots in with his chair. “Don't worry. You're in good hands,” he chirps. 

It's been a while since he's performed a full cleaning himself, preferring to delegate to Georgi and touch up his work afterward. In fact, Viktor insisted that Georgi move all routine check-ups until after he returned from vacation. This had the pleasant side effect benefit of freeing up most of his day to accommodate Yuuri’s schedule. 

Yuuri's eyes flash with a hint of humor. “Oh? Pray tell. What century did you graduate dental school?”

Viktor snorts and gives as good as he gets with a faux haughty look. “I'll have you know it was within the last few decades or so,” he says. “I agree though. With so many new fangled tools, it's hard to remember what they all do but I manage with a little trial and error.”

Yuuri's eyebrows shoot up and Viktor has to bite back a smile. The temptation to continue teasing Yuuri is strong but the more rational part of his brain cautions that Yuuri may be skittish. “Actually, I graduated five years ago for the second time,” he says with his best reassuring smile, usually reserved for meeting new puppies and children. 

He gestures at the framed diploma for his latest degree hanging on the wall in between the windows. It's all very proper and tasteful, the blue mat border edged with gold to match the colors in the university’s seal. His vampire patients tend to be less picky but his human patients like that kind of thing, a subtle checkmark for normalcy. 

Yuuri obliges by sitting up to look. “Hmm, is that Cyrillic? I haven't learned that yet. For all I know, it could be your diploma from clown college.” 

Yuuri's smile is wide and sweet with a teasing lilt to his voice that has Viktor itching to play along. “I guess you're just going to have to trust me not to joke around about this,” he says with a straight face. This is an interesting but not unwelcome new side to Yuuri. 

Yuuri shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I will, Dr. Nikiforov,” he agrees readily, throwing unnecessary emphasis on the word doctor. Yuuri settles back down in the chair and crosses his legs. “But I’m still repaying you with an extended skating lesson.”

“Deal,” Viktor says enthusiastically. “Love a good barter.” This is a concession that he definitely has no issue honoring. 

Viktor picks up the disposable bib from the tray and snaps a clip onto one corner. He holds it up to show Yuuri. “This will go around your neck to keep your clothes clean. From any water spray,” he tacks on hastily. He can feel a bead of sweat gathering at the back of his hairline. He really needs to be careful with his phrasing before Yuuri gets the wrong impression. Necks are such a sensitive topic, after all. 

Yuuri lifts his head obligingly. Viktor slips the chain around the back of his neck and clips the opposite corner of the bib. 

Yuuri pulls down on the bib to tug it into place. “Should I take off my glasses?”

“Sure,” Viktor says. Vampires have perfect vision - or they should. He's been curious about the glasses since he saw Yuuri wearing them outside the rink. He hesitates, wondering if it's too invasive or personal a question. 

Yuuri pockets his glasses and blinks owlishly up at him through long lashes. 

This close, Viktor can see that Yuuri's eyes are a remarkable deep brown. He tucks this information away for future reference and takes a breath in through his nose and exhales slowly, relaxing as his heartbeat resumes normal operations. 

There's something intriguing about Yuuri that he can't pinpoint. Whatever it is, it's continually throwing him off balance and the uncertainty of where he will land makes him flustered. He’s blushed more this past week than he has in 200 plus years prior.

He recovers quickly, adjusting the positioning of the overhead lamp with care before flicking it on. Yuuri’s face is bathed in a brilliant splash of light. It’s a stark reminder that he has an important job to do now. 

“Let's have a look at how your teeth are doing. Open wide please,” Viktor says. 

Yuuri closes his eyes and opens his mouth obediently. Viktor slips on gloves and a face mask. He takes his time to check all the quadrants thoroughly. The gums are a healthy pink and there's minimal plaque build up near the roots on the molars and some brown staining behind the top incisors. As expected from a tea drinker and nothing that a little elbow grease can't polish away.

“Your teeth are in great condition,” Viktor reports, tugging down on the bottom of his mask to facilitate speaking. “I'll do a quick cleaning and then we can check out your fangs.” He demonstrates the automatic scaler by squirting a little water into the spitting station. 

Yuuri cracks a smile. “It's nice to see that technology has progressed from having a strong grip to rip out teeth.”

Viktor smiles wryly. “You would think. We have X-ray machines, numbing gels, and forceps now but the principle is basically the same.”

Yuuri looks horrified. “That's horrible,” he declares. “I'm so glad I don't have to worry about losing my teeth.”

Viktor blinks. It's silly, given his current profession, but he's never thought about tooth loss when there was never any risk or possibility to take into consideration. He finds himself in complete agreement with Yuuri. Losing his teeth sounds terrible. 

Viktor feels emboldened to share with Yuuri. “Extractions are among my least favorite procedures and it's always an adorable kid with dimples who needs a tooth pulled. And they're all so tech savvy nowadays. No one believes in the Tooth Fairy anymore because she doesn't have a Twitter account.”

“That sounds tough,” Yuuri says with real sympathy in his eyes. 

Viktor dips his head in grateful acknowledgement. “I try to keep in mind that I'm helping all my patients. And it's nice to provide a necessary service for the vampire community. Even if our teeth don't fracture or get cavities, it's still a good idea to schedule regular cleanings.” Viktor stops short. He's rambling and veering into lecturing territory. 

Instead of boredom, Yuuri nods thoughtfully. “I’m glad you're my dentist.”

Viktor laughs, an embarrassing half snort noise that escapes without permission. “That's kind of you to say,” he says in a hurry, delighting in the resulting flush on Yuuri's cheeks. “And it was also sweet of you to not give away Yura’s secret.”

“Ah,” Yuuri says with a short laugh and a bit of a grimace. “You noticed.”

“Only because Yura gave it away. He’s prickly so he won't say it for himself but thank you,” Viktor says. “And he would be mortified if he even suspected I didn't believe you.”

Yuuri smiles, a tiny quirk to the right corner of his lips. It’s a tiny movement that disappears in a flash. It makes Viktor feel like he's sharing a secret with Yuuri. 

“I promise it's nothing bad. But, as you said, it's his secret so I'm keeping my mouth zipped.”

Viktor picks up the hand scaler tool and twirls it around his fingers slowly. “But then how am I supposed to work?” he teases. 

Yuuri shrugs, pressing his lips firmly together and blinking up at him. 

Ah, and there it is again - the side of Yuuri that keeps him guessing what he will say or do next. It's exasperating when Chris drags him to a club only to abandon him at the bar as he runs around to grope everyone with half a pulse but Viktor is starting to see the appeal of this more nuanced flirting. He taps Yuuri's pursed lips lightly with one finger. “Open up, please.”

Yuuri’s smile falls into a wide grin. 

Viktor snatches his hand away and curls it into a fist as his heart carelessly skips a beat. Oh. Yuuri Katsuki is dangerously _bewitching_. 

\--

Phichit stands on his tiptoes and waves to Yuuri to catch his eye. It's wholly unnecessary given that they're attuned to each other but it's a habit that's hard to break and handy to have around humans so Phichit employs it indiscriminately with his human and vampire friends alike. 

Yuuri comes jogging up a few seconds later, cheeks flushed a healthy pink. Phichit hands him a hot cocoa. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri chirps, taking a loud slurp. 

Phichit gathers up his papers and tucks them away. “Are you sure your dentist would approve of this sugary drink?”

“I'll have you know that I have it on excellent authority that my teeth are in great condition,” Yuuri says. “That's a direct quote from my dentist. Plus, you're the one enabling me so you don't have too many legs to stand on here.”

Phichit snorts. Yuuri can be transparent as a window. The main reason Yuuri likes meeting up on campus is because the coffee shop by the science building makes the best cocoa. Getting a ride home is a secondary benefit. “I'm doing you a favor. If I let you order, the barista would've tossed in god knows how many extra truffles.” 

Yuuri blinks at him behind misted over glasses. “I thought it tasted less sweet than normal.”

Phichit shakes his head ruefully. A lesser man than himself would be weak to the combo hit of Yuuri's wide innocent eyes filling with disappointment and his tiny frown. Luckily, he's built up immunity to it from watching Yuuri deploy it countless times on unsuspecting victims. “Trust me. It's not normal to pack the cup full with truffles. No one needs as many as you or the baristas seem to think you do.” 

The real wonder is how the coffee shop is still in the black what with the copious amounts of freebies all the baristas on every shift throws at Yuuri. He can only assume that the operations are heavily subsidized by student activities fees. 

Yuuri clicks his tongue and gives Phichit a look. He does continue drinking his cocoa though which Phichit counts as a win. 

They take the scenic route to the parking lot, colorful autumn leaves crunching pleasantly under their feet. Phichit chatters nonstop on the walk, filling Yuuri in on the latest gossip at school while Yuuri asks clarifying questions to get all the players straight. 

Once ensconced in the car though, Phichit pounces on the opportunity of a trapped Yuuri. “Now tell me about your date with Viktor.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “It wasn't a date. I don't know why I tell you things when you just make up whatever you want to hear. It was purely a professional visit to the dentist.”

Phichit makes a noncommittal hum as he pulls into the street.

“Phichit Chulanont,” Yuuri says. “You're doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Reading too much into innocent gestures. Seeing mountains where there isn't even an anthill. Having delusions that everyone is madly in love with me. That thing. There's absolutely nothing going on. Viktor is just nice.”

“On the contrary,” Phichit says cheerfully. “You’re doing your ‘I can't believe it's not butter and people are interested in getting to know me’ thing.”

“Well you're wrong this time,” Yuuri says decisively. “If you don't trust me, you can go visit him yourself. He offers free initial check-ups.”

Luckily, they've come to a stop at a red light. Phichit wiggles his foot to double check that it is firmly planted on the brake before turning to Yuuri and laughing in his face. 

Yuuri's puzzled look only makes Phichit laugh harder until he has to clutch his belly to stop it from hurting. Yuuri will happily float down the Nile short of an actual conga line of suitors with presents forming in his wake. And even then, he might be convinced that he's on some sort of candid camera prank tv show. Phichit has to hand it to Viktor though. A dental checkup is certainly a creative gift that he hasn't seen anybody else try to pull yet. 

“I don't know what's so funny,” Yuuri grouses. 

“Nothing. My mistake,” Phichit says. “I'm sorry. Maybe I _will_ go pay him a visit.” A little pining never hurt anyone and Viktor looks like he can handle a challenge.

Yuuri makes a crotchety grumpy noise. “I promised that I would write a review on Yelling. You're helping.”

“Okay,” Phichit says. “We’ll wax lyrical about his lovely blue eyes and nice, white teeth.”

“Hilarious,” Yuuri deadpans. 

“Thank you,” Phichit says cheerfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the kudos, bookmarks, comments, and subscribes :D/ 
> 
> I'm so excited and happy that everyone loves these sweet vampires too <3333!
> 
> I had a tough time figuring out this chapter but I think I'm finally satisfied. More vampire shenanigans to come! Yay! Feel free to share your theories and vampire truths / misconceptions with me. No promises that they will get written in but I always find them inspiring :D///


End file.
